Break
by felivenizianovargas
Summary: Arthur wants to break up for some unknown reason, and its up to Alfred to convince him otherwise.


**I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters in it ^^ This is dedicated to Annix shhhhhhhhh 3**

"Alfred, I want to break up." The Englishman looked quite seriously at the younger country as he was eating his breakfast. Either the other didn't understand, or simply didn't want to because as his head snapped up he had a complete and utter look of confusion acrossed it.

"What?"

"I want to break up."

* * *

It had been bugging Alfred all day the fact that Arthur had said those words. Was it another of his cruel jokes? Was he mad about the whole 'ketchup' incident the day earlier? Whatever the reason Alfred was perplexed, and he was thinking hard about it, so hard that by the time he got home he had a pounding headache.

So when his brother called on the phone Alfred was not in the mood to talk.

"Alfred, I was wondering if you were coming to France's birthday pa-"

"No." He cut him off quickly sliding down on his couch with an audible drop.

"Is something wrong?" Just like any other day, Matthew was the first to notice something was off, though Canada was quiet, he sure was one heck of a thinker.

"It's nothing," Alfred grumbled propping the phone to his ear with one shoulder as he looked through the few magazines sitting on his table that Arthur had actually 'approved' of... Which meant all he had were tea booklets, and 'how to' manuals for simple things Arthur insisted he was doing wrong, even though Arthur knew even less than he did about them. Example: Cars.

"Seriously, Alfred, you can tell me."

"Mattie. I'm fine. Stop talking about it." Alfred was curt with him his words coming out harsher than he'd intended, as usual Matthew was unperturbed by his brother's behaviour.

"When you want to talk about it, I'll be here to listen to every word."

Alfred sighed and gave up his search for something that was actually interesting.

"I know, Matt, and I appreciate it, but really nothing's wrong. Just war crap, and cleaning up things." Alfred gave the most plausible response as he stood and headed into the kitchen to look through his fridge.

"..." There was silence on the other line for a while and Alfred was sure Matthew had hung up when his brother came back on.

"Sorry, Al, I have to go, France is over and well... He's eating all the maple..."

"Maple? France? Really?"

"Well... Yeah..." Matthew gave a disgusted snort as he uttered a curse under his breath. "He must be drunk."

"Yeah, yeah, go take care of that."

"Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine, go stop him from eating your maple."

"Okay..." Matthew was a little reluctant as he hung up the phone.

Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his honey colored locks as he eyed his nearly empty fridge. "Arthur was right... I do need to eat home more often." Alfred uttered a curse at the reminder at what had happened earlier that day. He slammed the fridge shut in irritation. "What is he thinking? I'm not some sort of doll he can just throw away like nobody's business."

After ordering take out he felt a little better, at least he wasn't hungry any more. Alfred went to bed that night stomach full, but feeling empty all the same.

* * *

Arthur glared at the clock. 1:44. All he could do was stare at it as minutes ticked by waiting for Alfred to call. I mean, sure, he had been the one to drop the 'break up' bomb, but really he had a very good excuse. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with Alfred any more. He loved Alfred, annoying eating habits and all. He just wanted Alfred to be happy... That was it.

He sighed as he checked the clock again 1:46.

"Only two minutes?" He stood in disgust deciding even America wouldn't stay up this late to call him. After getting into his pajama's he climbed into bed feeling annoyingly cold. He wished Alfred would just show up and be there laying beside him like so many nights before... But he wouldn't now, not after what had happened. "What have I done?" he cringed slightly pulling his pillow tightly to his chest not wanting to endure being conscious any longer.

* * *

Alfred woke up feeling worse than the day before. He got out of his bed and headed into the bathroom to take a shower hoping it would make him feel better. His head killed, and there was an incredibly annoying, incredibly painful tightness in his chest.

He was angry, more so than he ever had been. What was with England anyway? The other country had been around long enough to see true love, hadn't he? How could he not see that what they had was special and something that couldn't just be thrown away in two seconds. They were more than just 'friends with benefits' they were friends, and lovers, and family. How could England just throw that away?

The more he thought, the more angry he became until he felt his brow would never unfurrow.

Half an hour of hot water did nothing, so he stepped out and got dressed not nearly ready to take on the world.

* * *

"Alfred?"..."Alfreeed?"..."ALFRED."

America woke up with a start to see a very angry England holding a newspaper above his head ready to smack it down. Seeing the Englishman's face only brought back the headache, he wanted- no he NEEDED to talk about Arthur's outburst the other day.

"What is it, Iggy?"

"You're dozing off in the middle of the meeting. You're the host for God's sake, just stay awake for three hours will you?" Arthur's irritation which Alfred usually saw as amusing honestly pissed him off. Why wasn't the Brit acting any different than usual? Had his statement earlier just been a joke? A very unhumorous joke?... England didn't have much of humor... No, it had been real. Arthur wanted to break up.

"Let me sleep, England."

"No." Arthur glared at him smacking him gently on the head. "If you fall asleep then you won't be invited to meetings again."

"They can't not invite me."

"They have to invite you," Arthur corrected.

"Exactly, because I'm America."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you think my behavior would be excused if I just 'decided' to take a nap in the middle of the meeting?"

"'Course."

"And why is that?" One of his black eyebrows twitched his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Because you're an old ma- OW." The newspaper came smack down on his head, not at all helping with his headache. "Why are you so abusive?" Alfred whimpered rubbing his now sore head.

"I'm not abusive, I'm practical, now get up and sort through the paperwork you neglected to do when you were supposed to." Arthur turned on his heel and was about to walk away when Alfred caught his wrist. He had a very serious expression on his face, the kind rarely there, his beautiful steel blue eyes peered carefully at the Brit.

"Arthur," he said his name softly, not resorting to nicknames, or childish insults.

"Yes?" Arthur's heart fluttered a bit. It was moments like these that made him fall more and more in love with the larger nation.

"We need to talk."

Arthur fell from his high as those words slipped out of the American's mouth, "...I know."

"We need to talk, NOW England."

"W-We can't!" Arthur shook his head frantically, "we're in the meeting place, we cannot deal with personal matters in the place of our work."

Alfred sighed and let go of his wrist. "Then later, when the meeting is over, come to my place."

Arthur nodded flushing slightly as the other countries began entering the room again. He quickly returned to his seat, and throughout the rest of the meeting stole glances at the other country who's usual chipper expression was gone and replaced with one of seriousness. He wanted to make Alfred smile, but how could he? Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair gaze falling completely on the nearly blank papers in front of him. He wasn't one to talk when he had been lecturing Alfred about his paper work... He himself couldn't focus on any of it, let alone actually fill it in properly. I'm such a hypocrite, he thought bitterly.

When the meeting ended Arthur was the first to gather his papers and flee the busy conference room. What he needed was a looong hot shower to think about things before he faced the American again...But then again...Did he really have to? Alfred couldn't make him come could he?...He couldn't. A small smile spread across his lips as he stepped out onto the street. He looked up noticing the dark heavy clouds above him and he scurried to find a taxi not wanting to deal with getting wet.

Arthur was in the shower for as long as he possibly could be without running entirely out of hot water. He had officially opted not to go visit Alfred and discuss 'things' and to just stay home and watch the cooking channel. It was a good plan and he appreciated it very much as he brewed a cup of tea and sat down on his plush couch carefully placing the tea on his coffee table and reaching for the remote.

* * *

Alfred waited. He sat on his porch arms folded gaze cold as he waited and waited and waited.

"Where are you, Iggy?" He called to no one in particular as he sat rigid on his porch swing. It didn't move, nor did he until it was dark and he realized that Arthur wasn't coming. "You're such a coward." He grumbled angrily as he watched the first few drops of rain fall. He sighed and got up heading inside to put on his jacket. "If you're not coming to me, I'm coming to you." He grabbed his car keys and plunged into the rain heading down the street to his car and getting in. It started with a splutter head lights flickering on and off as if pressed by a switch.

The car started and he cranked up the heat driving slowly out of his neighborhood. He drove for what seemed like forever before he reached the park just two blocks from Arthur's house. They had spent many days in the summer there, having picnics, feeding ducks, and hopping rocks across the very beautiful very blue lake located in the center of it. Alfred smiled at the memory then scowled realizing why he was passing the park in the first place. Suddenly the car started spluttering and coughing and making down right awful noises.

"No. No. No. No. No!" Alfred slammed his fist on the steering wheel as he felt the car lurch to a stop. "Dammit!"

He growled angrily and got out of the car into the rain not bothering to even pull his keys out of the ignition. He'd deal with it later, right now he had enough bad tempers to deal with.

The rain was cold like ice as it slid down his back and through his hair seeming like fate in its own way, telling him of what was to come. He was fairly sure he could persuade Arthur to rethink his decision to break up...And if he couldn't, well, he had all of eternity to get Arthur to love him again, and he would. He would do anything for him, even if it meant going on an outrageous chase to retrieve some sort of magic tea.

It took him only four minutes to sprint the two blocks to Arthur's house, and by then he was cold, wet, and full of a fiery determination he hadn't felt since his days in the Revolutionary War.

The red door came into view and he walked up to it not sure whether to knock or just head inside. Deciding he couldn't wait any longer he opened the door and stepped into the neat hallway decked in Arthur's coats and flags. He didn't bother shutting the door as he headed into the living room to find England, who was at that moment cooking a batch of 'delicious' scones and trying to forget all about the meeting he was supposed to be having with a certain blond nation.

Alfred turned the corner and saw him, standing there completely calm, or so it seemed, whipping up a batch of those horrid scones.

"Arthur." His voice was cold as he leaned on the doorway to the kitchen eyes sharp as ice as they fell on the other blond. England turned startled at hearing Alfred's voice, sure he had imagined it. Green eyes widened as they met Alfred's. Grass and sky, a classic combination seen as very beautiful and serene and placed in most stories as the perfect place, but at this moment was nothing but hard edges and twisted pages of a fairy tale that could still possibly not happen.

"A-Alfred?" The Brit was startled to say the least, "what are you doing he-" he was cut off as he was roughly dragged away from his bowl full of batter and held tightly in an embrace that he could never escape from, would never want to escape from. "What are you doing here?"

Alfred pulled away slightly and looked down at him, eyes still storming like a glorious marching band decked in the bluest hue.

"Why do you want to break up with me?"

"Ah-" Alfred clamped a hand over his mouth silencing him.

"We've been together for so long, and I've ALWAYS loved you, then all of the sudden you don't want to be with me anymore. WHAT THE HELL, ENGLAND?"

Arthur tried to respond but Alfred's hand was still tightly clamped over his mouth. He removed it but held England there, unable to escape.

"I-I well... I just-" Arthur tried to conjure up the perfect lie not wanting to express the truth.

"Cut the crap, Arthur. Tell me the truth."

There was a pause, a silence so thick it rivaled that of a german chocolate cake as Arthur thought of what he was going to say next. He needed to be careful, be quick to the point, be strong, but as he thought all of these things tears filled his eyes and much to his horror they fell. They fell and they fell and they fell until he was sobbing and wiping at his eyes nonstop. Arthur hated to show weakness more than anything.

Alfred didn't say anything, only pulled him closer gently dragging a warm tan hand through the other's hair. He still wanted answers, but he was willing to wait, knowing that pushing the smaller male into a quick answer would only result in half of the truth, or less.

After several minutes Arthur pulled away slightly and wiped his eyes staring up at the taller country.

"Are you going to tell me?" Alfred asked, voice flat, worried what might come out of the Brit's mouth.

"B-Because-" Arthur hiccuped much to his embarrassment, "Last week when I was talking to France, he said that-" another hiccup "that you wanted kids."

The tears fell faster and Arthur shook his head.

"Artie-"

"I CAN'T GIVE YOU KIDS, ALFRED." Arthur was shaking now trying desperately to get rid of his tears.

"Artie..." Alfred's eyes softened and he pulled the other man close again pressing his cheek to his neck and kissing it softly to calm him. "It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" Arthur looked at him, usually clear green eyes, foggy with tears.

"I love you, Arthur." Alfred smiled and kissed his cheek.

"A-Alfred! It matters! I'm a male, no matter how hard I wish I could, I cannot concieve children."

"...You wish you could?" Alfred raised an eyebrow as England's face turned bright red his gaze averting.

"I-If you want children then, I want to give them to you..." He flushed even more, "I want you to have everything you want."

"Even fast food?"

Arthur smacked him lightly, "That's different. It endangers your health."

Alfred laughed lightly leaning down to press a soft chaste kiss on England's mouth.

"And that's what all of this was about? You wanted me to be happy," he clarified.

Arthur nodded curtly. "Of course."

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, " Alfred clucked despairingly kissing him again. "When will you ever learn, that all I need to be happy is you by my side?"

Arthur smiled, "that and a cheeseburger."

"Always."

**THE END JALKF;JLASDJFLASJDFLSDJFLDSFLA**


End file.
